


Fear of the Water

by Books_and_Cats_and_Coffee (orphan_account)



Series: Sladiver Week 2019 [2]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, hydrophobia, ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-24
Updated: 2019-09-24
Packaged: 2020-10-27 17:02:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20763854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Books_and_Cats_and_Coffee
Summary: Storms always brought back the worst memories; for both of them.





	Fear of the Water

_Some ancient call, that I’ve answered before. It lives in my walls, and it’s under the floor. If this was meant for me why does it hurt so much? And if you’re not made for me why did we fall in love? _

Sometimes it would rain on the island, a little drizzle or steady shower. Sometimes, it was so much more than that. Dark clouds would roll in, turning the day into an early night. Then the sky would open, and water would pour down. White flashes of lightning would snap through the air, and thunder rumbled furiously. It felt like the end of the world, the end of everything.

Slade viewed those times with no particular fondness, a natural response to one of nature’s more predatory habits, and resident paranoia left over from the freighter. He knew as well, that those storms were far worse for Oliver. It was never something they spoke about, Slade would never bring it up, but he always watched Oliver at those times. But now, with the rain gushing from the monochrome grey sky, he had no idea where his companion was. At first, he just waited, hoping the younger man would return soon. He didn’t.

Slade had no choice but to go searching for him. He knew the kid was capable. Especially after Shado’s death, he had become more attuned to his surroundings, more determined. Even so, storms like these transported him back the night the yacht went down, and Slade had witnessed him struggling with the irrational fear it brought more than once.

He followed Oliver by instinct alone, knowing what direction the younger man had initially taken and tracking him based from intuition. Oliver was far too good to leave a notable trail now. He found himself moving towards the cliffs, following what his own instincts told him. He was still surprised to see the figure standing upright, looking down at the sea below, doing nothing to shield himself from the storm. Oliver didn’t turn as Slade joined him, his blue eyes were fixed on the turmoiled water that rose and fell in violent heaves. Somewhere, out in those waves, sailors would be struggling to control their craft. The Australian didn’t speak, merely brushed his fingers over Oliver’s shoulder, not grabbing or climbing, barely even touching.

Oliver turned to him, and for a moment, Slade thought he saw the stormy waves reflected in those ocean eyes, the greyness in their troubled depths. Lightning flashed, and the sound that followed was deafening. Oliver twisted his face away, eyes shutting tightly breathing pausing behind parted lips.

There were different levels to fear, Slade knew that. Terror looked different in those who were fighting to survive, and those who had given up on it. Those who had lost so much hope, that even their mind recognized there was no longer any point in responding. Slade lifted his hand, reaching it across the empty space, Oliver took it. Water dripping from his fingertips. His skin was unnaturally cold to the touch.

“Remember when I told you that this had to be predestined?” Oliver’s voice stood out against the storm. “That this was meant to be?” Slade took his other hand, lifting it gently, feeling the cold skin against his palms, trying, wishing, to warm them.

“I remember.” It was a conversation they had shared so long ago. When Oliver wasn’t so dislocated. It had given them both some measure of reassurance, strangely enough. The idea that some part of this was actually purposeful, and not just the ironic roll of fate.

“If it’s true, why did it hurt?” Oliver searched his face. “You never agreed. Is this why?” Another crack of thunder, Slade felt it rip through Oliver’s body, felt the shudder. He had said something similar. _We’re not made for each other. I’m not meant for you. _Those words should have guided them both. Instead, they ignored them. And now they were here. “What are you afraid of?” Oliver asked. Slade didn’t answer the question.

“What are you?” Oliver turned his face to stare at the rough surface of the water. Churning, boiling against the rocks. He use to refuse to go into deep water, staying by the shallows. After Ivo, Slade had been forced to drag him back to shore, the shock and fear freezing Oliver’s limbs, threatening to let him sink. Slade had almost drowned himself, blood staining the water he struggled through. Blood that was mostly not his own.

“Not that, not anymore.” Oliver admitted. He looked back to Slade, a small, sad smile on his face. “But now, I think you are.” Was he? Slade stared out at the ferocious waves. He remembered fighting through it, clinging to Oliver, his body screaming in agony. He lifted a hand to Oliver’s neck. There were no visible marks, but he could _feel _the open gash, the jagged edges.

“I really do love you,” Slade murmured.

“You weren’t supposed remember?” Oliver responded, his voice barely above a whisper. There was too much melancholy behind his curved lips. “I love you too.” But did he mean it? He studied those blue eyes, barely feeling the rain drenching his clothes. Barely feeling the mucky ground underneath his feet. There was a disconnect between them, a bridge that Slade couldn’t cross anymore, no matter how hard he tried.

The waves splashed against the cliff, throwing spray into the air. The hands he held were no warmer than earlier. And when Oliver pulled them away, Slade didn’t try to hold on, he watched as Oliver walked away from him, to the very edge of the cliff, standing still, buffeted by the wind and rain. He looked over his shoulder. Slade missed him, every day he wished he was closer. But he was just so far, and Slade could never seem to reach him.

Oliver smiled, accepting, patience, he turned away from Slade, his feet leaving the ground as he dove into the black waves far below. Slade rushed to the edge, staring down into the violent water. He didn’t see the younger man land, or where he was after that. He searched for any sign of Oliver, but he knew he wouldn’t see anything else.

Following him was the logical choice.

The water parted around him as Slade plunged into the dark depths. There were no shallows, and nothing to catch himself on. He sunk slowly, eyes open, until he felt a hand in his. He turned, his own hand coming up to Oliver’s other.

He looked happy now, calm and peaceful, and he didn’t let go of Slade, even as the Australian parted his lips, feeling the water flood into his lungs. He saw Oliver’s face smiling back at him. It was the last thing he saw.

_You're dislocated, don't be like that. And you smile when you dive in, like you're never coming back. So hold my body, yeah, hold my breath. See your face when I black out, I'm never coming back_

**Author's Note:**

> This is an angsty, confusing af excuse for a fic that barely clears the prompt. (If it even does)
> 
> I wasn't planning on using any old ideas, but I'm behind in my work this week and this was an idea I already had from the song series. So yeah. There's definetely a very distinct idea to this fic, but I don't know how understandable it was, so if you did actually figure it out, please let me know. Because I'm worried it's just a vague mess. Kudos to everyone.


End file.
